The Woman Returns
by Celino
Summary: It's been three years since Sherlocks return, and Sherlock arrives in Baker Street to find Irene Adler waiting for him. She asks for his help in retrieving 'the most precious thing she has'. The case leads them to Greece, where Sherlock has to stop a terrorist organisation on a mission to overthrow the Greek Parliment, solve a kidnapping and find out how human his heart really is.
1. It's been a long time

The woman returns

A/N: Hello everybody, thanks for reading! I am a big 'Sherlock' fan, and when I found out that season four wasn't coming until at least 2016, I wanted to write my own ideas down to help me through. And, when I heard that Irene Adler would be coming back, this came to mind. It's taken me a while to get this much done, and it is still a work in progress. However, as I am not Steven or Mark, I will have trouble coming up with appropriate methods of deduction and analysis as well as keeping the content itself as close to cannon as possible, though I will do my best to do the series and our fandom proud. Please enjoy my story, and constructive criticism is appreciated.

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Chapter 1: 'It's been a long time.'

Sherlock wanted to run. But he wasn't going to. The sound of children screaming filled the air and he felt his stomach turn.

How could people stand this?

But, Sherlock had promised John…

"Sherlock?"

He looked up to see Mary sit down at the picnic table while another scream cut the air as what could only be described as a horde of children scrambled for sweets, threw water balloons at each other or jumped, trying to pop the many bubbles floating over the park lawn.

"If you're getting a headache, I don't blame you," Mary whispered sympathetically, "it's hard enough with one."

Sherlock removed his fingertips from his temple slowly, accepting the drink Mary held out for him. Orange juice. Store bought, cheap and over processed, but a welcome distraction nonetheless.

"Who came up with the idea for these things?" Sherlock asked the wife of his best friend.

"Birthday parties?" Mary clarified, "No idea."

"But what's the point?" Sherlock pressed. "You get another year older, so what? My parents tried to give me birthday parties. I hated it every year."

Mary smiled at the man she now considered a member of her family.

"It's a milestone," Mary tried to give her opinion. "Children grow up so fast, so we need to celebrate their birthdays. In a few years, Rhiannon may not even want a party, so we need to make memories while we can."

Sherlock made a non-committal sound through his nose as he watched the three year old girl on her father's shoulders, trying to catch bubbles, which of course was impossible, as they'd pop the instant her fingers made contact, but still, the girl continued to try.

"Okay, time to cut the cake!"

Sherlock moved out of the way quickly as a stampede raced towards the tables.

"What is that?" Sherlock asked slowly as the cake was carefully placed before Rhiannon Watson, who looked so excited, Sherlock thought she'd have a heart attack at only three years old.

"It's a birthday cake," John answered patiently as he lit the candles.

"It's _pink_," Sherlock commented.

"Well, Rhiannon likes pink," John answered. "We had this made especially for her."

"But she doesn't like pink, she likes _green_," Sherlock insisted. "Didn't you see her room this morning? On the walls: Every drawing she had done of herself was done using a green crayon or pencil, which means–"

"Shut up, Sherlock," John said quickly.

"Sorry," the consulting detective lowered his eyes, realizing he'd done something wrong.

"I like green," Rhiannon piped up, but upon seeing her dad's face, added, "and pink."

"Brilliant," John mumbled.

"Time to sing 'Happy Birthday," Mary announced.

~..~..~..~..

Mary carried her daughter through the door of their home while John followed, carrying all the birthday presents.

"I'm getting a bit worried about Sherlock," Mary told her husband as she put their sleeping girl to bed.

"Me too," John answered as he placed the birthday presents on the floor of his daughter's room, "his present was _not_ what I expected."

"It was silly putty," Mary recalled, wondering what was so strange. "Sherlock even made it himself, didn't know he could. And it was _green_."

"He started to explain how he did it, but I cut him off," John explained quietly as they shut Rhiannon's bedroom door. "But seriously: _homemade_ silly putty?"

"What's wrong with silly putty?" Mary asked. "Rhiannon loved it."

"Exactly," John answered. "One time, Sherlock gave me a copy of an essay he'd written for my birthday, about suppressed hatred in the company of others. _He'd based it on my friends_."

John's head shot up as he heard a chuckle, and turned in time to see his wife slap a hand across her mouth.

"Sorry," Mary apologised as she lowered her hand.

"Sherlock has always had trouble when it comes to things like this," John continued slowly.

"But Sherlock did amazingly well for our wedding day," Mary reminded her husband fondly, and John couldn't help but smile at how his friend had moved everyone at the reception with his speech before averting a murder.

"And that's another thing," John continued. "Sherlock hates social gatherings, he'd do everything he could to avoid them usually, yet he accepts an invitation to a _three year old's _birthday party? He never came to my birthdays."

"Not just any three year old," Mary qualified, "_Rhiannon's_ birthday party. Sherlock tries so hard for the people he loves, even when he doesn't fully understand the point of something as trivial to him as a party."

"So you're not surprised that he came today?" John asked.

"No, I'm not," Mary answered, before taking a breath. "Although, it is one of the reasons why I'm worried about him."

"What do you mean?" John asked, pausing in his pacing to sit beside his wife on the couch.

Mary bit her lip, considering how to phrase her next words.

"You said that Sherlock tries to avoid social gatherings, even when it was your own birthday?"

"Yes," John nodded slowly.

Mary sighed.

"When did the two of you last do a case together?"

John let out a breath, closing his eyes as he saw what his wife was getting at.

"He misses you," Mary said softly as she met her husband's gaze. "He's on his own now, he's lonely. _He_ updates your blog now, hoping you'll spot a case you want to help him on."

John lowered his eyes. He had to admit, he'd been missing Sherlock too. 'The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the two of us against the world…'

John smiled.

"It was the two of us against the world, "John said reminiscently. " But now I have you, and Rhiannon."

"But who does Sherlock have?" Mary asked.

"He still has me," John insisted. "He has all of us."

"But not as much as he used to," Mary reminded him gently. "And I know you miss it too."

"Alright," John smiled as he stood up. "I'll go have a shower, then I'll go visit him."

Mary smiled. "He'll be happy to see you," she said proudly before becoming thoughtful for a moment.

"What?" John asked curiously.

Mary shook her head, shrugging slightly.

"You've made me happier than I ever thought I could be," Mary told John lovingly, and John could feel the smile spreading across his face. "I was just wondering, if there could be someone who could do that for Sherlock. He deserves to be happy too."

"Ah," John raised his eyebrows before clearing his throat. "Sherlock has given the impression, on more than one occasion, that something like love is beyond him."

"He loves us," Mary insisted.

"That's different," John countered. "_We're_ different."

"We're _special_," Mary agreed, "so, if he met someone special…"

"There is only one person I can think of," John said slowly, "that could come close to being 'special' to Sherlock Holmes."

"Really?" Mary sat up straighter on the couch, curious. "Who?"

"Irene Adler," John answered after a pause.

"Irene Adler," Mary repeated as she cast her mind back… "Wait," she said slowly, "she's…"

"Yeah," John nodded.

"The woman you mentioned on your blog?" Mary finished. "The one who 'nearly brought the country to it's knees' and is on a witness protection scheme?"

"That's the one," John nodded. Then he swallowed. "But… she's not on a witness protection scheme," he admitted. "that's just what I told Sherlock."

A small frown formed between Mary's brows in concern. "Why? What really happened?"

John sat back down on the couch. Mycroft had told him this in a crowded café, so John saw no reason why he couldn't tell his wife.

"She's dead," he explained slowly. "She was captured in Karachi and beheaded."

"Oh my god," Mary whispered. "Poor Sherlock."

"Well, she _was_ a world class criminal, "John granted. " She'd made a lot of enemies. Sherlock can't even say her name now, just: 'The Woman'. Mycroft thought it may be a salute to the 'one woman who matters'."

"But you still told Sherlock she was on witness protection, even though you thought he hated her," Mary took her husband's hand fondly. "You did the right thing, love."

"Still," John granted slowly, "If Sherlock _did_ feel anything for Irene Adler, I doubt it'll happen again any time soon."

"Which is _why_ you need to go see him," Mary pushed her husband off the couch. "Go have a shower then head to Baker Street. That's an order, Captain Watson."

"Yes Ma'am," John saluted, chuckling.

~..~..~..~..

Sherlock got out of the cab, trying to clear his head of the sound of the children's shrieks. Still, the joy on John and Mary's faces as they watched their young daughter playing with her friends couldn't be discounted. He quirked a smile. John and Mary were happy. They deserved it.

Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a couple of sweets that Rhiannon had given him. The girl hadn't liked the blue jelly beans, so had given them to Sherlock. Popping them into his mouth, Sherlock winced slightly at the overwhelming sweetness. Why would people give children this stuff? He wondered as he opened the door to Baker Street. Walking up the familiar steps, Sherlock thought he'd spend the remainder of the day working on that experiment involving the blood samples he'd swiped from Bart's, when something stopped him in his tracks.

The door to his flat was closed before him, yet he'd distinctly remembered leaving it open when he'd left earlier that day.

He supposed that it could have been Mrs Hudson, who was currently out, but he knew that it wasn't her.

It was the perfume that told him that.

The smell was faint, but etched in his memory. At the back of his mind, Sherlock could hear the music from his violin as he composed.

Slowly, Sherlock reached out and opened the door to his flat.

Stepping over the threshold, the detective's eyes were immediately drawn to the woman sitting in his chair.

But not just any woman.

_The_ Woman.

"Hello Sherlock, Dear," Irene Adler greeted. "It's been a long time."

~..~..~..~..

A/N: So, what do you think? Please review!

Those of you who have read my other stories know that I like sharing my theories and I remember reading somewhere (I think it was Wikipedia) that one 'spin off' from the original stories had Sherlock and Irene having a son, Nero, who grew up to follow his father's footsteps in being a detective. Now, with the series showing John and Mary having a child, as well as showing just how committed Sherlock is to those he loves, as well as being good with kids in 'the sign of three' (I admit I am concerned with that kid, Archie, being so enthusiastic with seeing murders though) I can totally see Sherlock and Irene being together and having a child at some point. They are both separate from normal society and they challenge and intrigue each other, with very interesting chemistry. And Sherlock has proven on more than one occasion that he can care about others while still doing his work, so why not?


	2. You're an idiot, little brother

A/N: Hello again, here is chapter 2. I hope you enjoy it!

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Chapter 2: 'You're an idiot, little brother.'

"Did you miss me?"

Something was different about The Woman.

Her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders, but he'd seen her like that before, when she'd come to him for help regarding a 'code' on her camera phone.

"_Go on…Impress a girl."_

Sherlock mentally shook his head, trying to stay focused on the woman sitting presently in his chair.

She was wearing make up, though it was more subdued than expected, but the scent of her perfume was the same, and her lips were as red as they were when they'd first met.

"_Brainy is the new sexy."_

'Will you _shut up_ and _focus_?' Sherlock berated his mind.

"You're back in London," he said aloud without meaning to.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Irene's mouth as she tapped a manicured finger lightly on the arm of his chair.

"Very observant of you, Mr. Holmes," she teased.

Clearing his throat slightly, Sherlock took his first step into the room, never taking his eyes off The Woman sitting in his chair in the charcoal fifties-style dress.

That was something different, Sherlock noted. Her wardrobe… The Woman always wore things that allowed her to control others, yet her particular outfit today, while showing a classic style, didn't seem to fit her blood red lips.

"_Look at those cheek bones…"_

Sherlock averted his gaze slightly as he made to stand beside the fireplace.

"What brings you back?" Sherlock asked her. "You're supposed to be dead, so I'm assuming it's something serious."

"Yes," Irene admitted and for a moment, her confident mask slipped, allowing Sherlock to glimpse at the terror behind her eyes.

Oh, this was very serious indeed….

~..~..~..~..

John got out of the cab and made his way to his old flat, taking in the 221B emblazoned on the door before stepping into the building.

"Sherlock?" He called out in greeting as he made his way up the stairs.

"Hey, I was wondering if-" John broke off as he took in the scene before him.

His best friend was standing by the fireplace, while _Irene Adler_, the dominatrix who nearly brought the country to its knees, sat serenely in Sherlock's chair.

"John," Sherlock greeted his friend calmly, and while he turned his head in John's direction, he never met his friend's eyes, keeping his own gaze locked on The Woman herself.

"Hello Dr. Watson," Irene met his gaze firmly, raising her chin as if in defiance.

"You…" John's voice was husky with shock. "Mycroft said that…"

"She was dead?" Sherlock supplied, gaining John's attention, meeting his friend's gaze for the first time.

John's mind went back to talking to Mycroft in the café downstairs.

"_It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me…"_

"You saved her," John accused his friend and was rewarded as the corner of Sherlock's mouth quirked up in a satisfied smile.

"You went to bloody_ Pakistan_ and you saved her."

"It wasn't too difficult to set myself up as her executioner," Sherlock explained smugly. "When the time came, I was able to fight off those who were gathered to document the execution and we were able to find a suitable replacement for the coroner as well as ensuring that the records would say that the body belonged to her. After that, we did have to lie low for a few days before it was safe to leave-"

"I don't _care_ how you did it," John interrupted. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"For the same reason I didn't tell you I faked my death," Sherlock explained shortly.

"Was I the inspiration for that?" Irene asked coyly.

"You thought I would tell?" John demanded of Sherlock before he could reply to Irene's question.

"She needed to disappear, and her new identity couldn't be compromised." Sherlock's clipped tone didn't appear to match the energy clearly filling him up as he began to tap his fingers on the mantle.

"Well, I'm compromised now," Irene brought the conversation back to her as a sense of urgency infiltrated her voice, gaining Sherlock's attention immediately.

"So why aren't you dead?" John asked bluntly before turning to his friend. "Is anyone who died _really_ dead?"

"Only those without the ability to fool the likes of my brother," Sherlock answered smoothly before turning back to his client. "Someone as resourceful as you would be difficult to kill though, given your record."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Irene replied with a smile.

"So if you couldn't be killed," Sherlock continued his reasoning, "then the only reason you would be here is if they've ensured your silence in some other way."

Once again, Irene's confident façade slipped for a moment and Sherlock focused on the emotion behind your eyes.

"_You know the real problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes? No matter how hard you try it's always a self portrait..."_

That's why her outfit didn't match her lips, Sherlock realised. She was trying to show she was in control, but she wasn't.

She was _terrified_.

It was a realization that caused his fingers to tap the mantle of the fireplace at a faster tempo, in time with his heartbeat, for Sherlock knew that it would take a lot to instill fear in The Woman.

"The most precious thing I have has been taken from me," The Woman's eyes were locked with his.

"And what's that?"

The Woman's eyes were full of fear and Sherlock was surprised to notice that her hands were actually shaking.

Irene Adler never took her eyes of Sherlock for a second.

"My son," she whispered. "They took my son."

Sherlock's fingers ceased their tapping as, in a rare moment, his mind went completely blank.

John felt his jaw slowly drop before glancing to his friend who had begun to blink rapidly in shock as his fingers stilled their rhythmic tapping.

John had only seen this reaction once before, when he'd asked Sherlock to be his best man.

'Well,' John surmised, 'I suppose Irene could have met someone while she's been in hiding, it's been nearly five years since she's seen Sherlock.' But seeing his friend's reaction, Sherlock had apparently never considered the idea that Irene could have met anyone.

"Uh," John stammered as the silence continued to stretch. "How old is he?"

"Four," Irene answered calmly. "Nearly five."

"Really?" John asked, "when's his birthday?"

"July 27th," Irene answered, still not taking her eyes off Sherlock.

Sherlock's body may have been frozen, but this information kicked his mind into high gear. He had saved Irene from execution in October five years ago.

The boy's birthday was July, and Sherlock watched the calendar months tick in his mind as he counted nine months back: _June, May, April, March, February, January, December, November…October_.

Sherlock let out a breath of air he hadn't even realized he'd been holding as the months aligned in his mind.

"Does the father know about this?" John continued. "Is he able to help at all?"

"He does now," Irene answered, her eyes studying Sherlock's face. "And I hope he will."

"What's his name?" Sherlock asked, coming back to life as he began to pace around the room.

"The father?" Irene queried raising an eyebrow.

"The boy," Sherlock stated, staring out the window.

"Nero," Irene answered. "Nero Hamish Norton. That was my alias at the time," she explained.

John flicked his eyes between Irene and Sherlock as his friend became very still.

"_Hamish_?" John queried the boy's middle name slowly.

"It was your idea, John," Irene reminded the doctor.

John turned slowly to Sherlock who was doing his best to avoid eye contact.

"Sherlock?" He whispered. Did this mean what he thought?

"When was the boy taken?" Sherlock asked, as he began to start pacing again, looking at anything other than the two others in the room.

"Two days ago. He was actually taken from me from our home, though my booby trap did kill one of the kidnappers, shame I didn't get the chance to question him," Irene answered as she retrieved a phone from her bag. "I was sent this last night and I recorded it."

Sherlock turned to see Irene holding the phone towards him, a video ready to play.

Sherlock and John came forward as Irene pressed 'play.'

The vision flickered as the camera was brought into focus on a young boy, sitting on a small bed in a bare room, his shaking hands clutching a thin blanket closer to him. His curly hair was messy and his dark eyes were wide, but his jaw was clenched in what Sherlock could only describe as stubborn defiance.

"Go on, boy" a large hand shoved the boy's shoulder impatiently. The boy's eyes changed from fearful to angry as he glared up at the person who had pushed him.

"My name's _Nero_." His pale skin almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the room he was in.

"Do you remember what you need to say Nero?" A deeper voice spoke up from off camera. "We will be sending this to your mother, remember. She will be proud of how brave you are being."

"I remember," Nero answered sullenly. "I've got a good memory."

"You're a clever boy," the deep voice continued, apparently trying to be the nice one so Nero would do as he was asked. "Just like your mother."

"Mum says I'm like my dad," Nero said quietly.

"Say what you have to say," the first one ordered and Nero raised his head to look at the camera.

"Mum," he began. "Just as you took things to protect yourself, these people are doing the same. I will not be hurt in any way as long as you keep your silence." Here, Nero swallowed and the camera zoomed closer so that his young face filled the screen.

"But this will be the last time you will ever see me." He had apparently finished his script, as the camera started to lower.

"Wait!" Nero called in a shaking voice. "Can I just say something to my mum? _Please?_ Just as me?"

After a pause, the camera settled on Nero's face once more.

"Mum," Nero swallowed. "They say I'll never see you again, but I know that's not true. You'll come get me." He leaned in closer to the camera.

"Hades wants to rule Olympus."

The transmission broke into static before ending.

Sherlock continued to stare at the screen, even though the video had finished.

'_Nero…'_ he mentally shook his head as he focused on the other aspects of the room and the men holding the boy captive. He had to focus…

John was gaping. Nero had looked _exactly_ like a mini Sherlock. Except for his eyes, which were as dark as Irene's.

"Sherlock…" John began, for he and his best friend _really_ needed to talk.

"At least we can be assured that the boy won't be harmed," Sherlock said quickly. "He's just acting as insurance. But still," Sherlock became business-like, "a political coup is not the best environment for a young boy, so of course I'll get him out."

"What?" John's mind was scrabbling as he was still reeling from seeing a mini-Sherlock to the sudden appearance of a political coup.

But Irene smiled. "You've still got it."

"Never lost it," Sherlock shot back. "It was obvious of course, but then, most things are."

"What?" John was trying to keep up. "Where is he?"

"Greece," Irene and Sherlock answered in unison.

"Greece?" John repeated.

"Didn't you hear what he said at the end?" Irene prompted. "He was telling us where he was and who had him: 'Hades wants to rule Olympus'. I had a former client in Greece who ran an underground network. He called himself 'Hades' after the Greek God of the underworld- he always did have a bit of a 'god complex'- and Olympus was the home of the Gods, and refers to the Greek Parliament."

"Obviously," Sherlock stated. "I also noted the accent of his kidnappers. Though, I am impressed that a _four year old_ could make those connections."

"He is a very clever boy," Irene said proudly.

"Takes after his father, does he?" John asked pointedly, turning to Sherlock.

"But he does like to get into trouble," Irene added.

"More like his mother," Sherlock muttered.

"Regardless," Irene continued, "I know where my son _is_, but I can't get him out. Not on my own."

"Never mind," Sherlock said confidently. "I can."

"So… you're going to Greece?" John asked.

"_We're_ going to Greece," Sherlock smiled at John.

"We?" John repeated, though he had to admit, he could feel his heart beat faster at the thought of another adventure.

"You might want to call Mary before booking our tickets," Sherlock informed him.

"Oh yes." Irene glanced at John's wedding band. "Congratulations John."

"Thank you," John replied automatically as he reached for his phone. This certainly wasn't the type of case he had expected to get involved in when he decided to come to Baker Street. He hoped Mary would be okay with it, and then, remembering who his wife was, figured she may actually be jealous.

As John left the room, Irene stood up as Sherlock approached her slowly.

"Why didn't you tell me about Nero before now?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Well, possibly the same reason why you never told John that you faked your death. I admit," Irene stroked a finger along Sherlock's cheek, "I was very glad when I found out you were still alive."

She stepped closer, bringing her lips inches from his. "_Was_ I the inspiration?"

"You risked a lot to come here," Sherlock changed the subject yet again.

"I'll take that as a yes," Irene answered smoothly. "Don't worry," she reached for her bag as she faced him once more. "You'll have plenty of time to tell me as we travel." She raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's expression. "You don't think I would stay behind do you?"

"Nero's kidnappers will be keeping their eyes on you," Sherlock stated. "There's no way they'd let you get on a commercial plane to Greece."

"Then how do you suggest we get there?" Irene asked.

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock cringed slightly as he dialed the number and brought his phone to his ear.

"Hello Mycroft," Sherlock began and the reply was swift and scathing.

"You're an _idiot_, little brother."

"That's not your usual greeting," Sherlock tried to stay calm as he realized that his brother knew what he'd done.

"_You saved her_." Mycroft stated.

Sherlock swallowed.

"I did," he admitted as he saw little point in denying it.

"And you didn't tell me," Mycroft continued.

"Why would I?" Sherlock asked.

"That woman is a threat to National security," Mycroft spoke as if explaining to a child.

"Not after I unlocked her phone," Sherlock reminded his brother quickly. "Now England is safe and the only thing threatened is her."

"And her child," Mycroft's voice was flat.

Sherlock froze.

"How did you know?"

"I've been following the political unrest in Greece for some time now, brother dear," Mycroft began. "So when I find that an underground network is planning to overthrow the government to turn it into a dictatorship, I am _very_ interested. _Especially _yesterday, when I intercepted a video communication and see what looks to be a _spitting image_ of a five year old _Sherlock _being held captive."

"You knew about this?" Sherlock hissed into the phone. "You knew and you didn't _tell me_?"

"Why would I?" Mycroft mocked before turning disdainful. "I can't believe you could be so _stupid_, Sherlock. And _I'm_ left to clean up your mistakes, as usual."

"Who said you need to-"

"Then why have you called me?" Mycroft cut him off. "You know as well as I do that if Irene Adler were to go to Greece, she and her son would be dead before the plane can take off. _If_ she flies commercial, that is. So why would you need to call me, if not to find a way to get to Greece… _undetected_?"

"So you won't help?" Sherlock asked.

"On the contrary, of course I will," Mycroft assured his brother. "I have your tickets already arranged. A car will pick you up momentarily."

"Why?" Sherlock was curious.

"Well, Greece may not be in the best state at present," Mycroft explained blithely, "however, if this _particular_ network gained governmental control, I shudder at the repercussions. Besides," he added in a tone that Sherlock supposed meant to seem caring, "I'd like to meet the boy. Someone needs to ensure his safety, and his parents don't seem to be doing a good job at present."

"You're not getting anywhere near him," Sherlock stated before hanging up.

~..~..~..~..

A/N: So, what do you think?

While writing this, I could see the months ticking back on the T.V screen as text usually does when Sherlock is making his deductions on things and I really tried to give that impression in my writing.

I do think Mycroft would consider Sherlock an idiot in this regard, however, in Mycroft's own way, he does care for his family, even though he's not one for sentimentality. And with Mycroft having access to practically every government branch in the world, I wouldn't be surprised if he knew about a coup in Greece, and Nero, before Sherlock did.

I'm not sure why I chose Greece, I guess I just wanted something different than London, the USA, Afghanistan, Pakistan or Iraq. I apologise if I have caused offence to any Greeks reading this. And if any Greeks can help me with the English spelling for possible place names and words, I'd appreciate the help in making my story as authentic as possible.

Please review, I appreciate feedback.


	3. You don't think I can do this, do you?

A/N: Hello all, here's chapter 3! Enjoy.

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Chapter 3: "You don't think I can do this, do you"

"Sherlock has a son?" Mary repeated in surprise. She'd just got out of the shower when her husband rang her, and she had to sit on the edge of the bed as John filled her in.

"Apparently," John whispered into his phone, still in shock himself.

"But he's just found out now?" Mary pressed in concern.

"Yeah," John nodded. "His name is Nero, and he's being held captive in Greece to ensure…his mother's silence."

"And the mother is…" Mary trailed off suggestively.

"_You know who_," John told her, realizing that he should at least attempt to be discrete.

"I have to admit," Mary considered after a moment's thought, "this is probably one of the most human things I've heard of Sherlock doing."

"And it wasn't even for a case," John agreed, remembering what Sherlock had done to poor Janine. Proposing, just to break into Magnussen's office.

"So, you're going to Greece, then?" Mary asked, and John could swear he heard a smile in his wife's voice.

"Yes," he answered after a pause. "I'm going to Greece."

"Oh, I wish I could come," Mary said wistfully. "It'd be like a second honeymoon, just with more guns."

John couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Oh yeah, he'd married the right woman.

"Then who would look after Rhiannon?" John put forward. "This won't exactly be a holiday."

"For you it will be," Mary told her husband fondly. "You've been itching for something for ages."

"I don't know how long it'll take," John tried to be clear that he didn't know what would happen, but Mary knew him well.

"You'll be fine," Mary told him. "I wish I could be there to help. You could use a good shot."

"I am a good shot," John defended himself.

"I'm better," Mary countered smoothly.

"John?" Sherlock could be heard in the distance.

"Mary, I've…I've got to go," John's voice had a touch of apology in it, which Mary was quick to disperse.

"Go." She told him quickly. "Sherlock will really need you on this one, John. Good luck," she added quickly. "I love you."

"Love you too."

As she hung up the phone, Mary pursed her lips slightly, thinking. Getting up, she quickly checked that Rhiannon was still sleeping before rushing towards her laptop, dialing on her phone as she went.

~..~..~..~..

Sherlock, John and Irene stepped out of 221B as a black car slid smoothly to a stop in front of them.

"Mr. Holmes," a tall man in a black suit greeted as he got out of the car, handing Sherlock an envelope.

Sherlock tore it open, extracting three plane tickets before passing them out.

"They even included me?" John muttered as he received his ticket. "How'd Mycroft know I'd be coming?"

"It's Mycroft's job to know things," Sherlock explained quickly as he passed Irene her ticket. "_Elizabeth Norton_."

"My alias," Irene explained. "Obviously."

"Well, even on a private flight there are dangers," Sherlock surmised as he opened the back door for her. "The name doesn't suit you." He added quickly before closing it.

"Since when do you open doors for people, Sherlock?" John queried as he and his friend walked to the other side. Sherlock immediately reached for the back door, leaving John to sit up the front.

"Are you coming or not, John?" Sherlock as he got in and the doctor realized that he wouldn't get the opportunity to talk with his friend for a while.

~..~..~..~..

"So do we have a plan yet?" John asked conversationally as the three of them took their seats in the private plane Mycroft had organized for them in minutes.

"I have a few former clients in Greece," Irene supplied as the plane began to prepare to take off. "I'm owed a few favors."

"I believe the plan is for you to stay _out_ of the public eye," Sherlock stated, his eyes focused straight ahead of him.

"Not all of my clients became my enemies, Sherlock, Dear," Irene explained softly. "And if we are going to get my son back, we will need some help."

"I thought that's why you came to me?" Sherlock finally turned his head to view the woman beside him.

"It is," Irene granted.

"So why do we need more help?" Sherlock asked.

"You're good, dear, but this will be _Greece, _not London. We need people who know the current area," Irene began, though Sherlock simply raised his phone.

"Mycroft sent me all the information needed. Oh, come on," he scoffed slightly as a look of skeptical surprised showed in Irene's eyes. "As soon as you said the kidnapper was the head of an underground network and called himself 'Hades' I asked my dear brother, who knows more about politics than anyone, to find out more information. Costos Karimicaelides," the gasp of recognition from Irene confirmed to Sherlock that he'd got the right person, "a finance minister who is also known as a rebel leader in certain circles. According to Mycroft, he's been trying to find a way to overthrow the Greek parliament for years, believing that only under his strict instruction, will the country build itself up from the economic disaster it's in."

"Yes," Irene nodded. "That's right."

"The fact that Costos has kidnapped… your son," Sherlock continued carefully, "means that he must be close to doing so, and one of the many incriminating things you had on your phone must have been his plan to do such a thing, but he either doesn't know your camera phone was taken from you, or he doesn't know what information you took. My guess is on the latter, as you were clearly living under an alias at the time, and why would you need to do that, if your phone hadn't been unlocked?"

"By you," Irene reminded him.

"By me," Sherlock nodded. "I'm the only one who could've done it."

"Yes," Irene granted, a smile tugging at her lips. "You are."

"So I am also the only one who can get…Nero, safely back with his family." Sherlock added, his eyes fixed on Irene as if willing her to agree with him.

"What about a place to stay?" Irene pressed.

"Mycroft has booked us a hotel," Sherlock admitted.

"Like Pakistan?" Irene raised a suggested eyebrow.

"No," Sherlock answered after a moment. "This one has room service and a working shower."

"Room service would be nice," Irene murmured.

Sherlock didn't comment, but the two of them continued their staring contest, as if trying to mentally asses each other.

"What about the language barrier?" Irene continued the conversation. "Do you speak Greek?"

Sherlock paused again, considering. "Judging by the quality of English that the kidnappers were speaking, it may not be necessary," he answered carefully.

"In other words: no," Irene finished.

"I speak well enough to get by," Sherlock defended himself. "I shut down one of Moriaty's networks in Athens over three years ago."

Irene finally broke into a smile.

"Well then, Mr. Holmes," Irene sat back in her seat as the plane began to taxi along the runway. "I think we'll work well together."

~..~..~..~..

As they flew, John watched with fascination, and not a little bit of surprised confusion, at how Sherlock and Irene acted towards each other, as the three of them went over the information that Mycroft had sent them.

John had the government laptop in front of them, which had been provided as soon as the seatbelt lights vanished, and followed Sherlock's instructions, checking and reading the various news articles, government files and yes, even the data on Irene's old camera phone.

"Well, at least it's not a train filled with explosives," John commented drily, shooting Sherlock a look as he perused the information on the screen.

"It's a chemical compound," Sherlock observed, staring at the screen a moment before sitting back in his seat, fingers steepled under his chin.

"What kind of chemical?" Irene asked in concern.

"It looks to be a form of cyanide," Sherlock answered, his voice sounding faraway as he searched his mind for ideas. "Far more elegant than a bomb, though I still expected something more than this."

"What?" John questioned.

"Poison, plain and simple," Sherlock answered, standing up to pace the aisle. "As I said, I was expecting something a little more creative, still…"

John's jaw dropped.

"An underground terrorist leader is going to try and _poison_ the Greek parliament to take over the country?" He clarified.

"Well, I suppose, as you won't be destroying an actual building, just those inside, you don't have to worry about using money afterward on rebuilding the building, so Costos can focus on the country."

"Great," John muttered, "terrorism on a budget."

"How will it be done?" Irene asked, leaning over Sherlock's shoulder to view the screen, and John couldn't help noticing his friend's eyes flicker to the woman beside him.

"No information on that aspect, you only took the photo of what it will be done _with_," Sherlock informed. "Not to worry," he added quickly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's my son I'm worried about," Irene stated firmly, gaining Sherlock's attention. "If Mycroft knows there'll be an attack on the Greek Parliament, he's probably got people working on stopping it. I just want my son back safely."

"And we'll get him back," Sherlock assured her. "We'll get Nero out well before then, he'll be perfectly safe soon."

Irene took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself, before walking towards the small bathroom on the plane and shutting the door.

John watched his friend, who kept his eyes on the door Irene went through, and figured it was now or never.

"So," John began hesitantly. "Nero."

Sherlock swallowed and lowered his eyes.

"He'll be fine," Sherlock muttered distractedly as he took a sip of the drink beside him, though it turned out to me more of a gulp.

"Of course he'll be fine," John continued pointedly, "his mum and dad are coming to rescue him."

Sherlock downed the rest of his drink before placing the glass back on the tray. John noticed his hand was shaking.

"How are you feeling, Sherlock?" John asked in concern.

Sherlock avoided his friend's gaze, pursing his lips as if afraid to speak.

"Mycroft is right," Sherlock whispered after a few moments. "I _am_ an idiot."

"You're not," John retorted quickly. "You're Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, you're as clever as it gets. However," John continued, causing Sherlock to raise his eyes for the first time, "as much as you try to prove otherwise, you are still _human_. Nero's living proof of that."

Sherlock's hands began to shake and John saw blind panic rising in his friend's eyes as Sherlock turned his gaze on him.

"You don't think I can do this do you?" Sherlock said. It sounded more like a statement than a question. "You or Mycroft."

"Do what?" John asked. "Save Nero from terrorists while stopping a terrorist organization poisoning the Greek parliament?" The doctor shrugged. "That's a regular day at work for you, isn't it?"

Sherlock didn't even acknowledge his friend's attempt at humor, instead, he wiped both hands down his face as he took a deep breath.

"_Nero_," Sherlock whispered, his eyes flicking to his friend's face. "You don't think I can be there for Nero. That I can't…" The detective rested his head against his seat, closing his eyes as a sigh escaped his lips.

"Be a parent?" John suggest carefully, and at the last word, Sherlock leaned forward to bury his face in his hands once more.

"How could I have _done_ this, John?" Sherlock's voice was muffled, but John could still hear the fear in his voice. "How will I be able to _do_ this?"

"Look," John grabbed his friend's shoulders, sitting him back upright so he could meet his eyes. "You are as clever as it gets, Sherlock. When Mary and I were getting married, you put all of that intellect into planning the wedding, covering every detail to the point where you were _You Tubing serviettes_. You gave Rhiannon _home-made_ silly putty for her birthday and knew her favourite colour better than_ I_ did. Now, I don't care what Mycroft thinks," John finished firmly, "but I think you are_ more_ than capable of being a good parent to your son."

Sherlock began to take deep breaths, and John could feel his shoulders relaxing beneath his grip. Seeing his friend calming down, John let him go and settled back in his seat.

"So," John began after a moment, casting a look towards the door to make sure Irene was still out of ear shot. "You and Irene in Pakistan?"

The question helped to clear the air as Sherlock began to chuckle.

"I have to admit," John continued, a smile spreading across his face, "I didn't think you had it in you."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised myself," Sherlock admitted slowly. "I'm not giving you any details," he added quickly, pointing as if to reprimand his friend.

"I didn't ask," John raised his hands indignantly.

"You were forming the question," Sherlock insisted. "I'm just making sure it's not spoken."

"Okay," John nodded, accepting his friend's need for privacy. "Back to work then."

Sherlock nodded as he settled in his chair to think. "Back to work."

~..~..~..~..

Okay, how do you think I did?

I was inspired for the 'poisoning of parliament' idea from the Sherlock Holmes movies featuring Robert Downey Jnr. For while I do love the original stories, as Irene only made that one appearance in 'Scandal in Bohemia' I couldn't think of an original one in which she could feature and I could base my story on.

I get the feeling that Sherlock would do his best to stay focused on his job and try and treat the case as if it were any other, however, as he is only human, and Irene has always had a certain effect on him, challenging him, I felt that he would start to try and impress her or treat her as more than just a client in small ways as his heart begins to show through.

However, I also feel that Sherlock, while he assured John and Mary they wouldn't need to panic about having a child, he himself would be terrified at the thought of being a father as he is aware of his own short comings when it comes to relationships.

I also am sure that John would do his best to support his friend in any way he can, such as reminding him that he can adapt his intellect to any task, as he had done for the wedding, as proof that Sherlock could be a competent parent.

As for Irene, I think she's intrigued by Sherlock's intellect as much as he loves the challenge she brings. I imagine her continuing to play games with him, genuinely this time, as she understands that having a challenge, a game to play and a mystery to solve is what keeps Sherlock Holmes intrigued. I also wanted to show her as almost a female version of Sherlock, in that she tries to show that she is in control at all times, but when her heart gets involved, she becomes vulnerable or makes a 'human error' as Sherlock would say.

Please review, I appreciate feedback. It may take me a while to update as I try to figure out exactly _how_ Sherlock and co will solve this one.


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